And I Hope
by Stretch
Summary: Little visionette about Ryan. Short and Sweet - Please R&R!


Clark often came, when the nights were quiet and it wasn't raining.  He wanted Ryan to have company, and to know he wasn't forgotten.  Despite the sadness of such visits, Clark often felt better after paying his respects to his young friend.  As if Ryan were his reminder of what was important in life.  As he slowed to a normal speed outside the narrow boundaries of the tiny graveyard, he realized he wasn't alone tonight.  Creeping behind the large oaks the lined the northern face, he peered through the gloom and made out a single figure, crouched in front of the narrow headstone in the far corner.  Ryan's spot.  Quieting his breathing, he strained to hear the soft voice penetrate the darkness

"…I'm sorry.  I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, that I couldn't teach you all the things I knew.  Sorry that I wasn't there to dry your tears and to help you when it all got too hard.  I'm sorry that I couldn't take mom's place and that I couldn't be the sister you needed.  I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you from the pain of the world, that I couldn't keep you safe from the man who should've loved you," the soft voice spoke.

            "But part of me is happy today Ryan.  Because, in the end you weren't alone."  The voice paused and took an audibly shaky breath before continuing.  "I'm glad to know that someone was there with you in the end, that you finally found your place in the world.  I'm glad to know that even if I couldn't be there to hold your hand, someone was.  I'm glad that in your final days you were safe, and warm…and loved.  I'm glad that you had someone to turn to."

            "And I hope," she started to say, but her voice cracked.  She cleared her throat and tried again.  "And I hope that you knew how much I loved you, and how much I longed to be there with you.  I hope that deep down you knew that I never forgot you, and that I would always carry you with me.  And I hope that in the end, you were happy as well, because for once you knew the love of a real family."  She uttered no more words, but stood silently, staring at the cold, gray slate.  Finally, she made the sign of the cross and placed a single, purple flower atop all that remained of her family.  Clark hid behind the cluster of trees as she left, climbing into the beat-up car that was pulled into the ditch.  With a roar, it sprang to life and took off out of site.  

Quickly, Clark approached the gravesite, chocking back tears himself as he gazed at the tiny headstone.  _Ryan James_, it read.  _Son, Friend, Brother, who will never be forgotten_.  Brother, that title had never been truer.  

As he turned to leave, Clark felt something CRUNCH beneath his feet.  Rifling through the lush grass, he retrieved a fine chain of tarnished silver, bearing the charm of an angel with outstretched wings.  He held it briefly before placing in atop the headstone next to the flower.  Ryan had always loved angles…maybe this would bring him peace.  Then, without a backward glance, Clark made short work of the run home.   

            When he entered the kitchen, Martha was alone at the large table.  She was reading a wilted piece of paper, which she held between shaking fingers.  

            "Mom?  What's wrong, what happened?" he asked quickly coming to stand at her side.  He was surprised to see that she was softly crying, but what was even stranger was that a small bouquet of purple flowers was lying on the table.  The same flowers Clark had seen the girl leave behind.  When Martha finally managed to speak, her voice was a shaky whisper.

            "I found those on the front porch…along with this."  She passed him the note and Clark read:

_You don't know who I am, but I owe you and your family a great debt. _

_I want to thank you for your kindness, your compassion, and your devotion_

_ to my brother in his time of need.  You were the family he never had._

_Than you from the bottom of my heart,_

_Caroline James_

Suddenly Clark felt like crying too.


End file.
